Page 11 of Shoshone Sun

Mary began counting on her fingers. “We can also plant turnips, spinach, mustard greens, cabbage, bush beans, Swiss chard and beets. They’ll all mature before winter sets in.”

“Mmm. You’re making my mouth water. We’d best get this field ready and the seeds down as soon as possible.”

“Don’t worry. I have plenty of seeds of all of those vegetables in the wagon!”

“You’re sure you can spare them?” Susan asked.

“Of course. I always gather at least three times as many as I need. There’ll be plenty for your spring plantings as well.”

Susan took a deep breath and straightened. “This place just seems to be too good to be true!”

“Well, you haven’t weathered a winter yet,” Mary warned. “This won’t be like a Somerset winter where one might, once or twice, get a skiff of snow overnight that melts the next day. Here, we get several feet over the winter. Sometimes the snow will cover our windows!”

Susan gasped. “Really?”

“Yes. The temperatures will fall to 10 during the day and minus 20 overnight!”

“That’s something we’ve never experienced.”

“Prepare yourself. Also, with the cold weather, the wild animals come closer to our farms looking for food: mountain lions, wolves, bears.”

“Frightening!”

“Indeed. Not to mention the Indians. We are in Shoshone and Blackfoot Territory. Both fearsome tribes.”

“Do they bother settlers, I mean settlers like us?” Susan asked shakily. Their wagon train had thankfully avoided any conflict with Indians on the journey out here, a fact to which she would be eternally grateful.

“Sometimes, unfortunately. But they are more likely to fight with rival tribes. The soldiers based out of Fort Laramie react quickly and unforgivingly if and when they attack any of the white settlers.”

Susan cringed at Mary’s words. Mary put a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry. We haven’t had a shred of trouble in the five years we’ve been here. We see them ride by on their ponies sometimes, but they barely give us a glance.”

Susan gulped. “Good,” she said, and tried to put thoughts of hostile Indians out of her mind. As it was, she prayed to God nightly they didn’t attack her family.

Just as the two women were finishing up in the gardens, Jane emerged from down toward the creek, carrying a bundle of freshly cut firewood under one arm and Petey on her opposite hip. Her face was flushed from the exertion, but there was a look of quiet determination in her eyes. The work had become second nature to her now. She didn’t mind the physical labor—there was something grounding about it. She knew that she, too, was part of this great effort. Not just as a helper, but as a builder of their new life.

“How’s it going, Jane?” Susan asked, wiping her hands on her apron as her sister approached with her son.

“I’ve been chopping and stacking wood between my babysitting duties,” Jane said, her voice bright despite the weight she carried. “I’m hoping to get enough together before the snow starts falling. The last thing we need is to be caught unprepared.”

Susan gave a reassuring smile. “You’re doing great. We’ll be fine. All of us. It’ll be worth it once we have this homestead up and running.”

Jane didn’t reply, but the look in her eyes said everything. They were in this together, and that was all that mattered.

The men worked through the morning, their axes biting into the thick trunks of trees, and the air filled with the rhythmic thud of their labor. Peter found the work harder than he had anticipated, but he was determined to prove himself. He was not a farmer by trade—he had grown up in a city—but the land had a way of drawing out strength he didn’t know he had. And he had five years of farming experience under his belt in England. The difference was that he hadn’t needed to clear a virtual forest in Somerset!

As another tree came down with a crash, its trunk splitting with the force of the fall, Paul gave Peter an approving nod. “Good swing, lad.”

Peter wiped the sweat from his brow, his hands aching from the strain. “I wasn’t sure I could do this at first. But it feels good. Feels ... right.”

Paul smiled. “You’ll get used to it. You’ll learn to listen to the land. It speaks, you just have to know how to hear it.”

They moved to the next tree, taking turns with the axe. By noon, they had cleared a good section of land, and Peter felt a sense of accomplishment. The pile of felled trees grew larger, the brush in the area thinning out as the day wore on. It was hard work, but the progress was visible.

Midafternoon, they paused for a brief break. The women had set out a spread of bread, cheese, and apples, and they all gathered around the small campfire they had lit to heat coffee.

As they sat down, Paul spoke up. “We’ll need to build a foundation for the cabin before the walls can go up. Along with any stone cleared from the fields, we have plenty of stone in the river bed that we can use, but it’ll take time.”

Peter nodded, chewing a hunk of bread topped with a slice of cheese. “We’ll get to it soon enough. We can use timber from the trees we’ve felled for the frame, walls and roof. We’ll need a solid base, though. I don’t want the cabin to shift or sag.”

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